


Got You Where I Want You

by Mike_Remington_Hanson



Category: Naruto
Genre: Alternate Universe, M/M, Romance, Smut
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-02-01
Updated: 2020-02-01
Packaged: 2021-02-19 02:02:51
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,353
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22503445
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Mike_Remington_Hanson/pseuds/Mike_Remington_Hanson
Summary: Prompt:Vampire Tobirama hunting and turning human Madara (with optional smut involved).
Relationships: Senju Tobirama/Uchiha Madara
Comments: 14
Kudos: 130
Collections: MadaTobi Gift Exchange 2020





	Got You Where I Want You

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Crystallized_Shadow](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Crystallized_Shadow/gifts).



> Prompt: _Vampire Tobirama hunting and turning human Madara (with optional smut involved)._

"It is always so cold here," Madara says, arms coming to wrap around himself. His breath mists before him.

Tobirama wants to taste it. Breath and blood and _life,_ enticing.

The air is frigid. The cobbled path beneath their feet is cold. And here Madara stands, amid the dim of night, burning like a raging fire.

Tobirama is ever drawn to him. Wants to taste his warmth, to fill his dead lungs with the breath of the living.

He keeps his distance, but Madara does not.

He steps forward, hands coming to rest upon Tobirama's chest. His fingers move to curl into the lapels of Tobirama's jacket.

Madara looks up at him and something stirs within the hollow depths of Tobirama's gut. Something primal.

Madara's _scent._ Spots of color high upon his cheeks. The promise of life within him.

Tobirama looks at Madara, reads his eyes. His gaze, unwavering. "You're certain," he says, and it is no question, merely an observation of what he already knows.

Madara nods.

And Tobirama moves. He pulls Madara against him, presses their lips together, seeking, savoring. He can taste Madara, even when all else tastes like ash and nothingness.

But Madara is everything. His surprised gasp. His lips, chapped from the cold, that part willingly beneath Tobirama's own. His tongue, sliding against Tobirama's. His teeth.

Tobirama knows the flavor of them all.

He walks Madara backward, presses him up against the bark of a dead tree. They do not stop kissing. Madara's hands upon his back. Soft moans flow freely from his lips. Tobirama drinks them all, greedy and wanting.

Madara's breaths. His pulse. His heart that beats so loud in the dark. Tobirama can hear it. The melody of it calls him. He kisses his way down Madara's neck. Feels the pulse that jumps beneath his lips.

Time seems to slow. Tobirama can feel every moment of it. His fangs, sliding out. The soft skin of Madara's neck breaking beneath them. Warmth explodes upon Tobirama's tongue. He is keenly aware of Madara's breaths coming fast. His heart rate speeding up. His arms, tight around Tobirama, nails digging into his back.

Tobirama drinks. He hears Madara cry out. Everything blurs, then sharpens. Narrows down to Madara in his arms, beneath his lips, yielding.

  


* * *

  


When first they meet, Madara is but a boy.

Kawarama brings him home, this bright young thing, effervescent.

Kawarama _likes_ the boy. Tobirama sees it, in the fondness of his gaze, the smile that splits his face.

And Tobirama is drawn to him. Where he goes, Tobirama lurks, always watching. Madara is a spark, forbidden and tempting. Blood and bone. A secret, a secret.

Madara is Kawarama's to turn, but it is Tobirama who wants him.

  


* * *

  


The world is quiet but for the song of the wind through the trees, the dance of dead leaves upon the grass.

Tobirama stands before Madara's grave, waiting.

  


* * *

  


"Does it hurt?" Madara asks him once. "Being turned?"

Tobirama looks at him, sun-bright eyes beneath midnight hair. What a temptation he is, so fragile, so human.

"I know not," Tobirama says, and it is the truth.

He was never turned. He was born into this world, dead and alive, blood in his veins and no breath in his lungs.

Tobirama looks at Madara, knows himself a dead thing brought to life. For Madara is _his_ — salvation and damnation.

"Would you be afraid?" Tobirama asks.

Madara looks at him with certain eyes. "Not if it's you."

  


* * *

  


Dawn is barely an hour away. Tobirama hears the earth move. Sees the tips of Madara's fingers, clawing, emerging. He digs his way out of the grave, naked and covered in earth, choking, gasping.

He falls onto the ground, pale and shaking. Tobirama goes to him then, pulling Madara into his lap, brushing hair and dirt from his face. He bites his own wrist, holds it to Madara's lips.

"Drink," Tobirama commands, and Madara does.

  


* * *

  


For years, they dance around each other. Tobirama does not mind. The years are but a blink in his lifetime. Time is what he never runs out of.

He watches Madara age the way Kawarama does not. Madara is a spark, a flame, a conflagration. He is life made flesh.

And Tobirama chases him, this thing he should not take, this thing he covets. It is in Madara's presence that Tobirama comes alive. He's moved through centuries, emotions stagnated. Calcified.

But Madara makes him feel all the things he thought he'd lost. This hunger. This rapture.

He watches Madara till the day he finds Madara watching him back.

  


* * *

  


Madara is cold and warm all over.

So much blood in him. New blood, dead blood, _Tobirama's_ blood, beneath his skin, within his heart that does not beat.

Madara is pale, paler than before, and his lips redder than ever.

Tobirama likes the look of them, stretched around his cock. Likes the look of Madara on his knees, looking up at Tobirama the way he's always looked.

Reverent. Yearning. _Alive._

Tobirama's hand upon the back of Madara's head. Guiding. He sheathes himself to the hilt. Feels Madara's tongue flatten beneath his length. His throat, loosening.

The sound Madara makes is a sweet, desperate thing. Tremors run through Tobirama's cock. His grip upon Madara's hair tightens. His hips snap forward, draw back, set a harsh rhythm.

Madara's fingers upon his hips. His nose in the curls of Tobirama's pubic hair. His moans are loud. They echo off all the cold spots in Tobirama's bedroom, warming them, giving them life.

For Madara is a flame that will never die. Tobirama knows this, craves it, wants to devour all of it.

"Enough," he says. He pulls Madara from his cock, throws him upon the bed with no warning.

Madara lies there, this beautiful thing. Hair splayed beneath him like rivers of ink. Tobirama wants to run his fingers through them once again.

"Turn around," he commands, and Madara obeys.

Tobirama climbs onto the bed, lifts Madara's hips. Smooths his palms along Madara's ass.

Then it's his fingers upon Madara's cheeks, spreading. And his tongue, gliding in.

Madara keens. The sound of it sends shocks of pleasure straight to Tobirama's cock. He wants to hear it again, this needy thing. He tongues Madara's asshole, gentle and rough. So much desperation in Madara's voice. So much _need._

 _"Tobirama,"_ Madara gasps. "Please, I want — "

The taste of him is sharp upon Tobirama's tongue. He laves Madara's pucker, slides in, glides out. Madara is a writhing, wailing mess beneath him.

 _"Please,"_ Madara says again.

Tobirama slides his tongue along the cleft of Madara's ass before pulling away.

"What is it you want?"

Madara turns his head. He looks at Tobirama and says, _"You."_

Tobirama's gaze darkens. He shoves Madara's head into the pillows. Positions himself at Madara's entrance, rubbing the head of his cock against his spit-slick asshole.

Madara's moan is muffled against cotton. This will not do. Tobirama grabs the edges of his hair and _yanks._

Madara's head snaps back. He cries out, and it's beautiful, laced with pain and lust and longing.

Tobirama pushes in. Slowly. He wants Madara to feel every inch, every moment of this.

Dark hair, smooth as silk, within his grip. Madara's ass, twitching and clenching around him. Tobirama sheathes himself and rocks inside Madara. Then he pulls out and slams back in. He fucks Madara hard, pulling his head back, tearing the hair from his scalp.

Madara cries out, over and over. Pushes back against Tobirama. They meet each other, sound of flesh against flesh in the dimmed light.

Tobirama pulls Madara's head to the side. Leans over him, kisses him. His fangs slide out. Madara's tongue, rolling beneath their tips. Madara's blood upon his.

They kiss in the way only creatures like they can. Bloody lips, bruised hearts. Tobirama drinks from Madara as Madara drinks from him. Madara's blood, like fire upon his tongue. And Tobirama thinks, _At last._

He comes inside Madara. Comes with a growl, low and primal and vicious that sounds so much like _Mine._

Madara cries out, cum splattering the sheets. He only screams Tobirama's name.


End file.
